NIGHT BEFORE EVENING
1269 Words
Talia’s POV
I don’t sleep.
I lie in the executive suite bed, staring at the ceiling while the mountain winds whisper against the windows. Every time I close my eyes, I see him.
Aiden Wolfe.
His voice.
His closeness.
The way he said he trusted the way I look at him.
Who says things like that?
What CEO talks like that to an intern?
By 3 a.m., I’m wide awake, nerves buzzing, contract pages replaying in my head like a movie I can’t turn off.
Professionalism.
Confidentiality.
Direct access.
And underneath every line is the quiet truth I’m too afraid to admit:
I want to impress him.
I want him to keep looking at me the way he did in the hallway… like he was peeling back layers no one else had bothered to see.
I turn over again, burying my face in the pillow.
This is ridiculous.
He’s my boss.
A billionaire.
A man with a reputation sharp enough to cut granite.
I’m just… me.
And still, when the alarm on my phone rings at 6:00, my stomach flips like I’m about to walk into a storm I secretly want to be caught in.
By 7:30, I’m showered, dressed in my best blouse, and standing in front of the mirror trying to tame a strand of hair that refuses to behave. I don’t know why my hands shake. It’s not like I’ve never had a boss before. Just… not this kind of boss.
Not one who watches me like he’s memorizing details.
Not one who moves me to the executive floor.
Not one who says trust me as if it’s a command wrapped in a promise.
I grab my bag and head out.
The executive floor is quiet, the hallway empty except for soft lighting reflecting against polished marble. When the elevator doors open, my heart slams once against my ribs.
Because he’s inside.
Aiden stands at the back, suit perfectly cut, tie dark, eyes unreadable. He looks like he hasn’t slept either, but instead of looking tired, he looks sharper. More dangerous.
For a second, I freeze.
His gaze lifts. Lands on me. Holds.
“Talia.”
My name in that voice shouldn’t make my breath catch, but it does.
“Good morning,” I manage.
The corner of his mouth twitches—almost a smile, almost not.
“Come in.”
I step inside. The doors close behind me, sealing us into a small space filled with his scent—cedar, clean linen, and something warm I can’t name.
I stand as far from him as possible. He notices. Of course, he notices. His eyes trail down my blouse, then up to my face. Slowly. Deliberately.
“Did you finish reading the contract?” he asks, voice rough from sleep.
“Yes.”
“And you still accept?”
“Yes.”
His jaw flexes. “Good.”
Silence settles between us, thick and electric. My heart beats too loudly. I look anywhere but at him, which is pointless—his presence fills the whole elevator.
When the doors open, he steps out first, but slows enough that I fall into step beside him.
“Today will be simple,” he says as we walk through the private hallway leading to his office. “Shadow me. Learn. Ask questions if you need clarity.”
Shadow him.
All day.
My pulse stutters.
He opens the double doors to his office and gestures for me to enter. I walk in, trying not to stare at the giant windows or the mountains glowing under early sunlight.
His assistant, Mia, is already inside, typing at a speed that makes my fingers ache in sympathy.
“Morning, Mr. Wolfe,” she says.
“Morning.” His voice drops into that smooth, commanding tone that feels like sliding velvet over steel. “Add Talia to all itinerary updates.”
Mia glances at me with a curious, almost approving look. “Of course.”
Aiden nods toward a smaller desk placed diagonally from his—too close for comfort. Almost intentionally close.
“That’s for you,” he says. “Temporary. You’ll move when we travel.”
Travel.
That word hits me harder than it should.
I walk toward the desk, placing my bag down. It’s perfect—neat, untouched, intimidating. Everything smells faintly of lemon polish and impossibly expensive ambition.
I pull out my notebook just as Aiden steps behind me, leaning one hand on the edge of my desk.
“Before we start,” he murmurs, “there’s something I need you to understand.”
My skin prickles. I turn slowly.
He’s close again. Close enough that I feel his warmth. His calm. His authority.
“What is it?” I whisper.
His eyes lock onto mine with unnerving clarity.
“You and I,” he says quietly, “will be in very close proximity. Long hours. Private environments. High pressure.”
I swallow hard.
He lowers his voice. “That means you need to tell me immediately if anything I do makes you uncomfortable.”
I blink. “Why would you make me uncomfortable?”
The silence that follows is heavy.
He stares at me like he’s trying to decide whether to tell me something or protect me from it.
“Because,” he says finally, voice lower, darker, “I am not an easy man to work with.”
I open my mouth, but he continues.
“And because you… affect things.”
My breath catches. “I affect what?”
His gaze dips—to my mouth, then my throat, then back to my eyes.
“Things,” he repeats, jaw tightening as if he’s angry at himself.
My pulse drums in my ears.
“Aiden—” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He shifts slightly, the movement subtle but charged.
“Mr. Wolfe,” he corrects, though his voice is softer than his words. “At work, you call me Mr. Wolfe.”
I nod quickly, fighting the heat rising in my cheeks. “Right. Sorry.”
He steps back just enough to give me air.
But not enough to steady me.
“Good,” he says, clearing his throat. “We’re starting with a meeting in ten minutes. I’ll brief you.”
He walks around his desk, but I swear the air moves with him, like he’s pulling gravity along in his wake.
I sit down, trying to pretend my heart isn’t still shaking.
I barely open my notebook when his voice cuts through the room.
“Talia.”
I look up.
He’s watching me again, expression unreadable.
“That blouse,” he says, tone oddly strained, “is not within the internship dress code. You’ll need to follow guidelines.”
My face heats so hard it burns. “Is it inappropriate?” My voice is tiny, embarrassed.
His jaw clenches. “It’s distracting.”
My pulse stops. Literally stops.
“Oh,” I whisper.
He drags a hand across his mouth, eyes sharpening with something I don’t understand. “I’ll have Mia send you the code. For now… You look fine.”
Fine.
Is it acceptable?
Or as in—
No. Don’t think that. Do NOT think that.
“Meeting in ten,” he repeats, his voice slightly rough. “Try to breathe until then.”
I exhale shakily the moment he looks away.
Breathe?
How am I supposed to breathe?
I came here for a job.
Instead, I’m falling into something I can’t name.
Something I can’t control.
Something neither of us is ready for.
And I think Aiden knows it, too.
- Writer
